


New Blood

by Serana_Dragontongue



Category: Lyinginbedmon - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Gen, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serana_Dragontongue/pseuds/Serana_Dragontongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Kyofushin fic spawned from musings on what happens when WitW!lying gets a hold on the other lyings and what Kyo experiences from that.</p><p>(thank you to thekameshell for beta reading!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Blood

**Author's Note:**

> What you need to know headcanon wise: there is one kyo that essentially ‘pilots’ the rest and can keep themselves semi-separate from the rest of the kyo’s - hence the pronoun weirdness of I/we/our

We could feel it; the distant pull of one of them tugging on the intangible strings that tied every single one of them together. Another one. One more voice to add to the cacophony of sound that was our mind. Wonderful. 

I wonder how this one died. it would be as painful and horrifying as the rest of their deaths to experience, of course, and dying repeatedly does nothing to numb the inevitable agony. The interconnecting string then pulled and twanged back, flinging the newcomer into the maelstrom that I know as self. Then the screaming began.

Every time a new one joined we were all plunged into a play-by-play of their demise, and this time was no different. We looked up, and there was our killer - stood against a foreign backdrop of darkness and damp - alien to the lush green fields that were my - our home. The basket of bread we were carrying dropped to the floor, almost in slow motion, as the reflection outstretched their hand, seemingly for a handshake. We stepped back a pace and they followed with two, still reaching, their hand within a hair’s breadth of our chest. Their nails were red like ours were, but it was not nail polish that caked their fingers.

With a sudden jerk,they plunged forward, slicing flesh and tearing through bones until they clasped firmly around our heart and squeezed, disrupting the ever constant drum beat and sparking a gut-wrenching feeling that spread through our entire body. We gasped in pain but found all that came out was blood. Spluttering and coughing, we dropped to our knees and looked up at the figure above us with pleading eyes, but we were met with a stare that poured into our very soul, and a wide grin of too full sharp teeth. They crouched slightly, if only to keep their grip on our heart, and placed a hand on our shoulder that was too tender for the situation. Our heads were cloudy and fogged, then our chest was full of knives as our tormenter began to squeeze again in a grotesque approximation of a heartbeat. It was as if they were curious as to what torture the organ could endure, and if they could keep us alive long enough to bleed out fully. We dropped to the floor, the pain wracking through our entire body, and we were unable to do anything but stare up at our executioner; our reflection, our double. We couldn’t even scream.

With the faint dying sound of our breath came silence as we regained the awareness of our surroundings, but almost immediately the new one was shouting and others riled to join them; stirring up the masses in one shouting match, each one vying to be heard. I felt like a parent on a long road trip; car full of howling werewolves and what seemed like an eternity to the destination. Only for me the car was filled with seemingly infinite loud, screaming alternate versions of myself and we really were travelling for the rest of time. What little of a thought process I had however was dashed when the new one rose to the surface and grasped control while I lost myself, and fell into the sea of hundreds.


End file.
